I treated myself to my first grown-up laptop yesterday. To put that in context, all my laptops so far have been slightly bigger than the average tablet. They've come in fancy colours, or had cute stickers on them - and yes, I realize that makes them sound like they belong on Hello Kitty.
My latest laptop, which turned 3 years old on Friday, is a shiney red thing that weighs less than my average library book. It was the DJ at our wedding, the theatre on our in-home dates, and the place where the very first draft of my very first full length novel sat. Of course, it went into a coma and I no longer have any record of any of that stuff. You'd think I'd be resentful, but it's hard to get annoyed with something that pretty. We've had some great times together. The laptop had surgery and chugged along bravely for a while, but the speakers don't work, and it only stays on when it's plugged onto the charger, and it just seems kinder on both of us to let go.
(Respectful pause).
This new laptop, which arrived just in time for Christmas, is a no-nonsense black beast that weighs as much as all my previous laptops combined (not that that's saying much). It's slightly initimidating, in that I'd to Google how to make it work. Way to make me feel old, laptop. Not to sound all bring-back-the-90's, but I'm not a fan of Windows 8. It manages to seamlessly integrate all that's annoying about Google Now & Macbooks without retaining any of the (considerable, it has to be admitted) goodness. This is going to take some getting used to, but I'm optimistic.
Ten years from now, when I write out a eulogy for B.B.*, I'm sure we'll look back on this day & laugh.
*Just because it's an adult laptop doesn't mean it'll go unnamed.
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